Chapter Text
On her return from Taylor’s office, Rian sits down hard enough to rattle all the pens in Winston’s pen holder. “Do you think I’m more Siddhartha or Govinda?”
“Who now?”
“Siddhartha? Hermann Hesse?”
“Oh, duh. Must have skipped that week of the German literature class I definitely took.”
“Figures,” Rian says. “You’re more like one of those guys who’d go into the woods with a copy of Young Werther and a pistol and —”
“Do you actually care what I think, or do you just need a punching bag because you’re mad at Taylor again?”
Rian sighs. “I said we should wait on Hypersonic. They shut me down and basically called me a pushover. And here I am, pushed over.”
“What’s wrong with Hypersonic? They said it’s a huge win, guaranteed.”
“Because they need a huge win to make them king of the hill again and throw Philip back down in the dust.” Rian glances over her shoulder at Taylor, still working at their desk and paying no attention to the two of them, or else giving a masterclass in pretending to ignore them. “But Hypersonic’s a pig in a poke. They might say that if the plane’s on time you can get to work by nine, but I can’t find anything to back up their claim that you’ll get there in one piece.”
“Well, there’s your problem,” Winston says. “You need proof that Taylor’s wrong, not just a big gaping hole where there should be proof they’re right. No way they trust your gut over theirs when yours says to dump a company Prince nearly yanked from them and theirs says to go for blood.” Well, they might if Rian tells them they’re acting like Axe would, but that’s not a weapon to wield in just any situation.
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Rian pulls her headphones from her bag and plugs them into her laptop. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Yeah. You’re welcome.”